


Promised

by Smutnug



Series: Chasing Eve [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Amnesia, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 10:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11205756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smutnug/pseuds/Smutnug
Summary: Eve's past reaches out to drag her back.





	1. Chapter 1

“A...complication has arisen, Your Worship.” Josephine was uncharacteristically nervous, gripping her board tightly. In fact they were all acting strangely - Cullen was looking at her as if she might be about to swoon.

“What is it?” Eve asked warily.

“A man has contacted the Inquisition. His name is Lord Roland Orrick of Markham, in the Free Marches.”

“Orrick is familiar.” A quick glance passed between the ambassador and the spymaster. “The...what do they call them? Chancellor. In Tantervale.” The study of politics was one way she compensated for the gaping dark hole in her memory. Eve Trevelyan, whoever she was, would have known that.

“He is a cousin of the Lord Chancellor.” Leliana watched her face carefully as Josie spoke. Too carefully. “He is...that is, he claims to be your betrothed.”

A squawk of laughter escaped her. “Oh! I’m sorry, that wasn’t appropriate. My betrothed? I wasn’t expecting that.”

Josephine relaxed a fraction. “There is more. We did not wish to trouble you with this news until...we have contacted your family, and they confirm that you were indeed betrothed to Lord Orrick. Are betrothed, in fact.”

“I am bloody well not.” Cullen seemed poised to catch her, and she waved a hand at him. “I’m fine...this is just...well, it’s awkward, isn’t it? Couldn't they have mentioned this earlier? What does he want?”

“He is travelling to Skyhold.” Leliana’s voice had a way of making the most mundane information sound like darkest intrigue. “Our scouts put him three days’ travel from here.”

“Andraste’s tits.” She bit her lip. “Does he know?”

“We did attempt to convey the...details...of your situation.” Josephine was apologetic. “He insists on coming to see you himself.”

“What the f - “ She bit her fingernails to keep a string of obscenities from spilling out. “What am I supposed to do with him? I truly don’t have time for this.” They were all looking at her like she might be a little bit mad, and right now they weren't wrong. “Do I have to be here? There are a hundred things in the Hinterlands that still need doing.”

“The Hinterlands can be managed without you for now. It would be seen as a grave insult if you were to be absent.”

“Is that a bad thing?” An insulted suitor would be much easier to get rid of.

“You should at least meet with the man,” said Cullen. “Who knows, it might even help you remember something.”

Her noise of disgust rivaled even Cassandra’s best efforts. “I’m not wearing a dress. You can’t make me.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile. “We don’t ask the impossible, Inquisitor. You need only be polite.”

“I’ll be polite unless he gives me a reason not to.” She ran fingers through her short hair. “Three days? Right. Leliana, you’re going to tell me everything you know about him.”

The spymaster nodded.

“But first let’s do whatever war council crap we came in here for.” Her fingers drummed restlessly on the war table. “Actually, first things first - any chance of getting some fucking drinks in here? Sorry, Josie.”

“No need to apologise, Inquisitor.” Josie smiled. “Some _fucking_ drinks, at once.”

 

“How you doing, Boss?” She’d been better lately. The hard edges of her face had softened, the shadows were gone from under her eyes. And as her health returned and he found himself less frightened for her, the old reasons came back. Don’t fuck with the fate of the world. Don’t fuck with the girl with no memory. Don’t fuck with the Inquisitor. Don't. Fuck. The Inquisitor.

“Ugh.” She sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands.

“That good, huh?”

“I’m engaged.”

He froze, and at the same time tried to hide his freezing. “Sorry, boss?”

“Betrothed. Promised. Whatever.” Eve's voice was flat and lifeless.

“Wait there, I’m getting us drinks.” Mouth suddenly dry, he ordered two more pints of ale and carried them back to her. “When did this happen?”

“I have no idea.” Eve drank down her ale like it was a health potion. “It’s news to me, too.”

“Who?”

“Some marcher lord. Not ancient, so that’s something. But...fuck. And he’s coming here.”

“He is?”

“Three days.”

The calculations didn’t take long. “So you didn’t invite him?”

“Why the _fuck_ would I invite him?” She glared. “I don’t know him. I don’t need him. I don’t know _who he is._ ”

A knot loosened inside him. “Sorry boss, dumb question.” He glanced up at her. “So, what’s your plan?”

“Plan? I don’t know that I have one. Apparently hiding in the Hinterlands until he goes away isn’t an option.”

“Did he know you? Before?”

“All I know so far is Leliana has confirmed the betrothal with my family. So he’s not an assassin. Unless my family wants to assassinate me, which I'm not ruling out yet. I was so hoping for an assassin.” She sighed, defeated.

“This could be a good thing.” He held up his hands in surrender as she turned on him. “I’m not saying you marry him, just he might have some answers for you.”

Eve softened her glare a little. “Huh. More likely we met once or twice in my parents’ sitting room and they signed over a tract of land to him to be rid of me.”

“He's pretty excited to meet you, if that's the case.” Bull leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Who knows, this could give you some of the answers you've been looking for. And if not,” he grinned, “I can help you throw him off the balcony.”

“Promise?” It was weird the ways she could make him hard, and her lopsided hopeful smile just now fit the bill.

“Promise, boss.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Soon.

Leliana’s intelligence on the man had been thorough but disappointing. Born in 9:12 Dragon, raised in Markham, schooled in Val Royeaux. She had his genealogy dating back to the first Blight, the size and primary industries of his estates, a handful of military decorations. His family had financial ties to the Trevelyans - no surprise there.

The rest was rumour. It was whispered that he was the patron of more than one bard, unusual for a Marcher but not unheard of. He was a fine horseman, enjoyed hunting, more than competent with a sword and shield. No proper scandals, no blackmail or secret bastards or even so much as a mage in the family.

Eve stood back in the shadows on Madame Le Fer’s balcony, the place she could get the clearest view of the gate without being noticed. Since they’d arrived here Skyhold had seen its share of visitors, many of them making some claim or other on her time. Only now did she have the sense that her home was being invaded, that once again something dark and dangerous was coming for her.

Soon.

The dreaded arrival took the shape of nothing more threatening than a travel-weary entourage, parting to reveal a straight-backed man on a chestnut stallion. Too far away to see much more than close-cropped dark hair and the way he looked around keenly, gently wheeling his horse to take in all of his surroundings. Not observing, she realised. Searching. Suddenly cold, she sank back against the stone wall.

“Orlesian tailoring.” Vivienne glided onto the balcony, shrewd eyes on the gathered party.

“You can see that from here?” The mage gave her one of those smiles that reminded her of the kitchen cats, watching everything from a height and absolutely assured of their superiority. “Of course you can.”

“Should you not be there to greet him, my dear?” Vivienne’s gaze took in her attire with more than a hint of distaste and she bristled. Yes, it was her usual leggings and tunic, but freshly pressed and laundered. She had made that much concession. “Is that what you plan on wearing?”

“Why not? We’re negotiating a disengagement, if anything. There’s no need to look pretty.”

Vivienne disapproved. “It is a respectable match. The Inquisition may not be around forever, you know.”

“I don’t even know the man.”

“Successful marriages have begun from less.”

“There’s more to life than marriage, as you well know.” How anyone could convey so much displeasure with just a slow blink, Eve had no idea. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and get unbetrothed.”

 

Bull could see the conflict pulling her in two different directions. Duty, towards the door. Something else pulling her back, and if she let it take hold it would run her out of the hall and down the steps, through the great gate and she wouldn’t stop running until Skyhold was out of sight.

“He’s through there?” She jumped like a startled animal and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, fighting to regain calm. “Sorry boss, didn’t mean to scare you. You ok?”

“They’re waiting for me in Josie’s room.” Her voice was a strangled squeak and she cleared her throat, tried again. “I don’t want to go in there.”

“I’d never have guessed.” He took in the small tremble of her hands, the tense press of her lips. “Come on. It’s not Corypheus. You’re too tough to be scared of some pretty asshole in a fancy Orlesian coat.”

“Pretty, is he? Well that makes everything better.”

“Tell you what. I’ll walk you as far as the next door. And I’ll wait outside in case he’s an assassin after all.”

Eve smiled. That smile that made him want to part those lips with his thumb and press his tongue into her mouth. “And then what?”

“Well if somehow you don’t take him down first, I’ll break in and snap his neck.” Hands safely at his sides. “But I don’t think it will come to that.”

“Because he’s not an assassin.” Her fingers twitched, longing for an enemy she could understand.

“No. Because you’d kick his ass in five different ways before I got there.”

“Fine.” A last sigh and she squared her shoulders, pushed the first door open and led him into the corridor. One last door between her and the past, and she was frozen again.

Bull cupped the back of her neck with his hand, a touch that seemed always to calm her somehow. It had the opposite effect on him, her soft skin under his fingers. He gripped her gently and the tension drained from her. She turned, grateful.

“If you want, I can pretend I'm your Qunari lover." Bull grinned. "I mean we might have to duel, but I bet I can take him.”

“Why pretend?”

Why indeed? The smile was still there, but no joke in her eyes, in the breathy tone of her voice that went straight to his dick. He could take her here, hard and fast and loud against the wall. That would give her fancy-dressed upstart of a fiance something to think about.

He rubbed the rough side of his thumb against her neck and felt her shiver. Then released her and gave her a little push towards the door.

“Go, boss. You got this.”

Pride then, warm in his chest, at the way her shoulders straightened and she lifted her chin. Whoever he was, she wouldn’t let him see her scared. It was enough to keep him from pulling her back from the door and carrying her upstairs, claiming every part of her as his. Almost enough to lift the heavy weight of his regret.

 

It was uncomfortably warm in Josephine’s little office, the fire banked high. The heat didn’t help the flush that crept over her cheeks when she entered and all eyes in the room turned to her.

The stranger reclined in one of the ambassador’s plush armchairs, one ankle languidly crossed over his knee. He was pretty, or at least conventionally handsome. An aquiline nose and full lips, pale green eyes ringed with dark lashes - possibly even a hint of kohl? Another Orlesian affectation. He was certainly well-groomed, she’d give him that.

He unfurled and rose to his feet. “Evie!” In a few strides he closed the distance and drew her into his arms. She heard the ring of steel as she stiffened and turned her face away from him, frozen in an awkward smile.

“Lord Orrick,” Cullen snapped. “I must insist…”

“I am sorry.” He raised his hands and backed away, with a charming smile for the soldiers who stood with half-drawn swords, looking to the Inquisitor for instruction. She nodded to them to stand down, her own fingers withdrawing from the hidden pocket that held her smallest blade.

“Lord Orrick, I presume?” Enough hesitation that if he had been an assassin, she might be dead already. A good excuse for more practice with Bull, but disconcerting in this moment. Her mask stayed in place, relaxed and polite.

“Roland, please.” Those pale eyes studied her. “They did mention your...difficulty. But I had an idea that when you saw me - no matter. We have time.” He raised a hand and remembered himself in time to draw it back. “Your hair! What happened?”

“My hair?” Eve ran a hand through her tousled mop.

“It will grow back.” Roland ushered her towards a chair, as if this were not her castle. She gestured in return and waited for him to sit before taking her own seat, noting Josephine’s tiny smirk.

“Brandy?” He reached for the decanter and she drew it away, poured her own glass. “This is very...cosy.” A smile for the assembled group - the spymaster, the ambassador, the commander and two stony-faced soldiers - did not quite reach his eyes.

“A necessary precaution,” Leliana murmured. “You are, after all, unknown to the Inquisitor.”

“Hardly.” He smirked, and his appraising stare awoke something in Eve, something not entirely pleasant.

“I assure you, Lord - Roland - you are entirely a stranger to me.” The brandy made it easier to hide the tremble in her hands. “My inquisitors assured me that they had made my condition known to you.”

“Indeed they did. I must apologise again. When I saw you, I got...carried away” He raised his hands, a show of helplessness. “I have missed you, Evie.”

“Eve, please,” she corrected, and noticed the tiny thinning of his lips even as his smile remained in place. “Have you...tell me, have you spoken at all with my family?”

“A little.” The smile widened and she cursed herself for giving too much away. “They look forward to having you home again.”

“They do?”

“Naturally. We all do.”

“Oh dear.” Eve put her brandy aside and crossed her hands in her lap. “This is...awkward. Lord Orrick, in light of the current circumstances - my duty to the Inquisition, my loss of memory - I am afraid we must consider this engagement no longer valid.”

“Nonsense.”

“I beg your pardon?” She noticed Cullen’s hand stray to his sword pommel, and gave a tiny shake of her head. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“I mean just that. Nonsense.” There was still a curve to his lips but his eyes were narrowed, predatory. “You have a duty to your family. And a duty to me.”

Eve stood. “I have no such thing, Lord Orrick. I don’t even know you.”

“Oh, you know me.” He rose too, and Cullen’s hand tightened around his sword. But instead of approaching he gave a stiff bow. “I will take your leave for now. _Eve_." From his lips, her name sounded like a warning. "It seems you need more time to think. I can wait.”

“I trust you can find your quarters? Or do you require an escort?”

The implied threat seemed to amuse him. “Oh, I can find my way around. Thank you for your...hospitality.”

Nevertheless, Eve motioned for the soldiers to follow him out.

She held her chilly composure until she heard the second door close behind him then sank into her chair, sitting on her shaking hands.

“Fuck.”

Leliana took his vacated seat and leaned forwards on her elbows, studying Eve’s face. “You handled that well, Inquisitor.”

“Did I?” She took in an unsteady breath. “Why am I still engaged?” She quivered with pent up fury. “Where do I stand here? Legally, I mean?”

“He has no claim on you,” said Josephine.

“Thank fuck for that.”

“I don’t like him.” Cullen paced the room irritably, still gripping his pommel.

“Cullen,” Josie admonished.

“No, I’m with Cullen.” Eve scowled at the closed door. “I don’t like him either.”

“He has given us sufficient cause to throw him out.” The commander paused in his pacing to look at her. “Just say the word.”

“No.” She was as surprised as any of them to hear herself say it. “He might...he might yet know something.”

“He will hold that over you for as long as he can.” Leliana had seen it too then, the small shift in the balance of power when she mentioned her family, a scrap of information he would dangle like a shiny bauble over her head.

“I know. It’s a price I will have to pay.”

“Be careful, Inquisitor.”

The smile she gave the spymaster held no trace of humour. “I always am.”


	3. Chapter 3

He didn’t block the man’s path through the little corridor, didn’t need to make a threat so overt. He was the Iron Bull. He _was_ the threat. Give him cause, two seconds and his bare hands and he’d break that asshole beyond repair, and he could convey all that without moving a muscle.

Orrick was good. His fear didn’t show on his face, was well hidden under an amused glance, a quick up-and-down that assessed Bull and dismissed him. A look back when the soldiers deferred to him, a hint of surprise in his posture. Good. Keep him guessing.

Eve took longer to emerge, looking small and shaken.

“Take me,” she said, “for a drink.”

Was it too late now to follow the Marcher and beat him into a bloody pulp? Bull swallowed his rage. “You know, you can’t solve all your problems with alcohol.”

She smiled weakly. “That’s one theory. It needs more testing.”

“You’re the boss, boss.”

“I am.” Eve smoothed her tunic with shaking fingers. “I’m the fucking Inquisitor, and this is the fucking Inquisition. My rules.”

“Didn’t know you were such a tyrant.”

“Trying something new.” He noticed with approval that she was taking deep breaths, calming herself without being told. “You like?”

“Sure. It’s hot.” Bull told himself the flirting was for her sake, help settle her nerves. And some of her tension was gone already, her grin less forced. No point chasing that thought, tension and its release.

“Let’s hit the tavern then. Lead the way.” Not an excuse to hang back and watch the sway of her hips, that curvy little ass. Not at all.

 

“Had that in my past, I’d forget it too.” Sera grimaced. “Hate his sneery face, yeah? I know the type. Jennies all over that one.”

“Do you know anything about him?” Eve asked.

“I know all I need to know by looking at him. But I’ll have some friends take a poke around.”

“I couldn’t make this shit up.” Varric pressed a hand to his hairy chest. “She didn’t know him any more. But he could help her remember...how to love.”

“ _Bleurk_. He’s the villain. You know that, right?” Sera glared at the dwarf. “Besides, you did make it up. The Re-Punchening.”

“Tell me you didn’t read that shit!”

“Course not,” she muttered. “As if I would. Total bollocks, that.”

“You know I didn’t write it? Please tell me you know that.” He noticed Eve’s silence. “So, Foggy. No star-crossed lovers? Not going to let your wilful nature be tamed by the dark and mysterious figure from your past?”

She shuddered. “I think taming is what he has in mind. And no.”

“Eve is full of surprises, huh?”

“Eve can fuck right off.” She drained her pint.

Bull was silent and tense. Varric saw the way his eye flickered from door to stairway, keeping the exits under watch.

“Who’s the hero then, if he’s the villain?”

“Me.” She tapped her tankard on the bar and Cabot refilled it with a small shake of his head, earning a tongue poked out behind his back. “I’m the fucking hero.”

“The hero has a foul mouth." He leaned back in his chair. "So why are you keeping him around, if you’ve had enough of Eve’s shit?”

The hero groaned. “He knows things. And even if I didn’t want to know more, it’s not safe just to leave it empty. It’s like walking around in the dark and not knowing if someone’s going to stab you, or you’re going to fall in a hole. Just need to...shine a torch. In those corners.”

“The hero is drunk,” Varric observed.

“That’s the bloody point, yeah? What with the _drinking_.” Sera was half draped on the bar herself by now.

Eve drained her last pint and sat up hopefully. “Who wants to take the hero to bed?”

“Me me me. If you’re offering.” The elf perked up.

“I meant to bed. To sleep. But at this point,” she shrugged, “whatever.”

“Thass’ the attitude. Just lemme rest a bit and I’ll be right on you.”

Bull stood. “Come on boss, I’ll walk you.”

“Awww yes.” She half-stood, half-staggered to her feet. “You fell in my trap.”

“Tuck ‘er in good for me, Bull.” Sera slapped a hand on the bar for emphasis.

“Good luck, Tiny.” Varric raised his tankard and Bull rolled his eye at them all.

“To bed. That’s it.”

“That’s _it!_ ” Sera mumbled. “S’wat she said.”

“Night, friends.” Eve waved, swaying a little on her feet. “Tomorrow we’re drinking to my unengagement.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He noticed Bull didn’t smile.

 

“Inquisitor.” It was the first time Orrick had used her title. He wore a snug-fitting tunic today, no doubt selected to draw attention to his finely muscled shoulders. “I was hoping for a word in private.”

She could grant him that, she supposed. He’d stayed out from under her feet, easily done since she’d spent most of the day ensconced in the war room. Now her back and head ached, and she jumped at the chance to get out in the daylight for a while.

“A walk in the gardens, then?”

There was a flicker of annoyance, quickly gone. “I was hoping for somewhere...slightly less public.”

“No doubt you were.” She smiled. “I'd prefer the garden for now.”

“Very well.” He offered his arm and she pretended not to notice, leading the way through the hall and into the dappled sunlight beneath the autumn trees. There she turned to face him.

“What did you wish to discuss?”

He was aware of the curious eyes upon them. “What I really wish to discuss...cannot be said here.”

“Very mysterious.” Eve finally had him at a disadvantage. “Sit with me?” She took a seat and patted the marble bench beside her.

Orrick masked his discomfort and sat, turned toward her in an intimate gesture, like lovers. He raised a hand. “May I?”

“You’ll need to be more specific, Lord Orrick. I must know what I’m consenting to.”

His pale eyes narrowed. “I asked you to call me Roland.”

“You did. But I find since then it’s become...unwise...to give you the impression of intimacy between us.”

“I hoped…” He looked dejected. “I had hoped you might allow me to take your hand.”

She almost felt sorry for him, and allowed him a tight smile. “I suppose that can’t hurt. As long as you give it back.” As he moved to grasp her fingers, she pulled back. “We are talking about my actual hand, yes? I wouldn’t like to get caught on a technicality.”

He let out a soft laugh. “Yes, your actual hand.” And as she rested her hand in his, he smirked. “In the other sense, I believe I already have your hand.”

“That’s a belief I’m working to remedy.” His fingers tightened a fraction, and she refused to allow her expression to change at all, stilled the urge to flee.

“You remember...nothing?” If she had secrets, she thought, that piercing gaze would draw them right out of her head.

“Nothing since the Conclave. After the Conclave, in fact.”

“And the reason you were at the Conclave…?”

“My family sent me, I believe.” She frowned. “Why, do you know differently?”

“No.” Still he searched her face. “No, you are correct.”

“What do you know about them? My family?”

“What would you like to know?” He shifted a little, and his knee touched hers. _Run_ , her mind screamed. _Run and don’t look back._

She cleared her throat. “Do you know why they haven’t been in contact? At all?” It might be unwise to give him so much information, but it was hardly a dangerous secret to tell.

“You can’t think of any reason?” His voice was low and dangerous and the small hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

“No. What reason could I possibly think of?”

His slow smile spread, nearly reaching his eyes. He stroked her fingers with his thumb, too intimate, and she pulled her hand back only to feel his grip tighten.

“Lord Orrick,” she hissed.

He leaned close and spoke low and harsh in her ear. “It’s a good act, Evie, I’ll give you that. They wouldn’t suspect a thing.”

She jerked out of his grasp and stood up, her hand balling into a fist. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She was aware of the silence around them, the curious glances.

“Of course not.” He stood as well and bowed, deep and mocking. “My offer still stands for a private meeting, Inquisitor. I won’t be going anywhere.” He swept his gaze around the garden, a charming smile for their shocked audience. Whistled a tune as he walked away, casually yanking a flower from a bush to twirl in his fingers.

She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile to the occupants of the garden. It’s fine, she said with her smile. Nothing is wrong.

_Maker take you, Eve. What did you drop me in this time?_


	4. Chapter 4

“An alliance with the Qun? We should leave at once.”

Bull blinked. “Just like that? We still need to set up the meet.”

“It takes time to get to the Storm Coast.”

“And it takes time to mount an expedition. They'll wait.”

“But - “

“Boss.” He grasped her shoulders. “You don't have to leave. _He_ should leave.”

“It's not safe.”

“What's not safe?”

“Anything.” Her eyes darted all over the place. He could feel the quiver in her shoulders, could just about see her heart jumping in her chest.

“Come with me.” She followed him mutely across the yard, through the tavern and up the stairs. “Now, talk to me.”

She shook her head. “I can't.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Too dark, better to know where the viper is than stumble around waiting for it to strike. But the viper is here and it will strike me anyway. Run, run and don't look back.”

“Fuck, Cole.” Bull growled in annoyance. “How long have you been standing there?”

The boy looked confused. “Seven weeks, I think. Sometimes I go other places.”

Eve frowned. “You took that from my head?” She walked closer. “What else do you see? Can you see anything from...before?”

Cole shook his head. “It's there, but it's hidden. The mark won't let me look. It...hurts, if I try to push it. It's too sharp, too loud, too heavy.”

She sighed, frustrated. “What about him? Can you see in his head?”

“It's dark in there. Angry. Why does she pretend? She should come home. We could take care of her. It's not safe.”

Bull could see the wheels turning in her head. “Not safe? He thinks I'd be safer with him?”

Cole was silent now, shuffling from foot to foot.

“I need to know.” Eve turned panicked eyes to Bull. “I can't just wait for the past to come and get me. I have to know what’s coming for me.”

“What if he _is_ what's coming for you?”

“Then at least he's here where we can see him.” She gestured to Cole. “He wants to keep me safe. That's something.”

He didn't want to risk her neck on some jumble of words out of the weird kid's mouth. “Do you feel safe with him?”

“No,” she whispered. But then that stubborn glint came into her eyes. “But you're here. You wouldn't let anything happen. Besides, I'm not defenseless. I've got knives hidden places you can't imagine.”

Despite himself, he grinned. “I've got a pretty good imagination.”

 

She sought him out in the courtyard.

“You're leaving?” Orrick didn't try to hide his displeasure.

“Not straight away. The day after tomorrow. You're welcome to stay if that's your wish, but I won't be back for some time.” It was all set in motion: the Chargers would join them on the journey and the Qunari contact would meet them on the Storm Coast.

His jaw clenched. “I had hoped that you would see reason. That you would return with me to the Free Marches. Your parents worry for your safety.”

They had a strange way of showing it, if that was the case. “They know where to find me.”

“Evie,” he begged. “Stop this foolishness and come home.”

“I'm needed here.”

Orrick looked incredulous. “They have an army. Powerful mages. Alliances with half the nobility in Thedas. Why do they need you?”

“I'm flattered by your confidence in me.” She raised her left hand, palm up. Concentrated, and it sparked green. “I'm the only one who can seal the rifts. I'm necessary.”

He stared at her hand, repulsed. “I thought that was an exaggeration. The tales we heard back home...well, not all were untrue, as it turns out.”

 _Home_. It was such a foreign word. Such a foreign concept.

“Will you tell me, before I go? About home?” She took his hand and clasped it in hers, beseeching.

Orrick looked at their joined hands in wonderment. “I would like to. If...will you grant me a private audience, Eve? I wish we could just talk, you and I.”

She felt a prickling of unease. _It's fine._   _He wants me to be safe._ “Fine,” she said. “My quarters, later tonight. But you have to promise to tell me everything.”

His eyes met hers, his smile all charm. “Everything.”

 

Eve made a public show of leading him to her quarters. She greeted the members of her inner circle as she passed, exchanged pleasantries with the soldiers on guard, their weapons clearly on display. Orrick even consented to a search, his person examined for hidden pockets or weapons, of which there were none.

“You are certain, Inquisitor?” Leliana murmured at the threshold.

“I can handle myself. If you hear me scream, by all means interrupt us. Otherwise...I need to know.”

The spymaster nodded silently.

Still she couldn't escape the churning in her stomach as she closed the door behind them. She had him lead the way up the stairs, keeping him in sight.

“This is it, then,” he said, surveying her quarters. He smiled. “Finally I have you alone.”

Eve saw it as if in slow motion, the barely perceptible shift in his muscles, the coiled spring.

 _See it coming,_ said Bull’s voice in her head. _Every time._

She froze.

It took just a second and he was upon her, pinning her hard against the wall, his tongue invading her mouth. She squirmed and squealed, but the sound was too faint and he was relentless. He broke away and pressed a hand over her mouth.

“Evie,” he groaned. “I've missed you.”

She shook her head violently.

“Shh.” He took one wrist in an iron grip, the other trapped behind her back. “You'll remember. I'll make you remember.”

 _Don't let the panic get hold._ But it had her, and she couldn't find breath even to scream when he released her mouth and dragged her to the bed. All she could do was whimper as his knee forced her legs apart.

“You want this,” he whispered. “You'll see, Evie. You know me. You love me. I'll show you how much.” He held her wrists in one hand and the other fumbled at his trousers.

_Scream, Eve. Scream, you stupid bitch. Don't do this to me._

Bite him. Knee him in the groin. Do something, for fuck’s sake. Those things were impossible from her current position. There was no air in her lungs. She wriggled but it was ineffectual, just draining her energy faster.

 _Easy._ Bull's warm breath in her ear. _Come on boss, you got this._

Breathe.

She saw an opening and cracked his head, hard, with hers. Her ears rang from the impact. He was shocked for a second then struck her sharply across the face. But the distraction was enough to let her bring her leg up, retrieve the dagger hidden in her boot.

She scooted back and pointed it at him as if it were a staff, able to shoot lightning between his eyes. He sat back, tense, still poised to strike.

“Don't.” She was still breathless. “I don't want to kill you.”

“I can't say the same.”

The intruder towered, immense, over the bed. No weapon, but then he didn't need one. He was the weapon.

Orrick glanced nervously between her and Bull. “I think there's been a misunderstanding.”

“Oh?” Bull cocked his eyebrow. “So you weren't just trying to rape the Inquisitor?”

His eyes bulged in outrage. “Rape? I was just trying to help her remember!”

“Right.” Bull advanced on him slowly. “And did she say please, Lord Whoever-the-fuck-you-are, help me remember? With your cock?”

He looked back to her now, a sneer on his face. “You can't even imagine what this whore lets me do to her. _Begs_ me to do to her. She doesn't even know how badly she wants it.”

A giant hand closed around his neck and lifted him into the air, kicking feebly. “Off the balcony, boss?”

Eve touched her fingers to her lips, saw them come away bloody. “You will leave,” she said. “Tonight.”

Bull lowered him to the ground and relaxed his grip enough to let him speak. “It's hours to the nearest village,” he croaked. “It's already dark.”

“You think I care?” She twirled her dagger for show. “Leave tonight, and if I ever see you again I will kill you myself.” She registered Bull’s disappointed frown. “You can help.”

“Fucking whore,” he spat. “They'll hear of this. And they'll gut you like the bitch you are.”

He choked as Bull lifted him back into the air. “Sure it wouldn't be easier to kill him now?”

“Half an hour,” Eve said. “If he's still here then you can rip him apart with your bare hands." She smiled coldly at Lord Orrick. "Consider this the end of our engagement, _Roland_.”

 

“How did you know?” she asked. The flurry of activity was over, as Orrick and his entourage packed rapidly and fled Skyhold.

“I didn't. Slipped in anyway.” Bull glared after the departing group.

“I froze,” she confessed. “Saw it coming and I seized up.”

He shrugged. “It happens. You got there in the end.”

“If you hadn't come along…”

Bull looked down at her, amused. “You'd probably have had to kill him. I should have hung back a little longer.”

"I knew." She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold. "She tried to tell me, and I ignored her."

"She keeps shitty company, your Eve."

She sighed, still in the dark as much as ever. “So now what?”

“Now, we head back to the Storm Coast.”

He pulled her close against him, and she didn't tremble.


End file.
